Chapter 189
Chapter 189
The fog grew even thicker.
A burst of terrified screams rang out from within the dense mist, then everything fell deathly silent once more.
Dressed in a red dragon-and-phoenix bridal jacket, Zhang Yuqin stared ahead in despair. “The Mountain God is angry.”
Trembling, she tried to crawl beneath the Altar Table.
No one had cleaned it in ages. Moldy apples lay rotting amid spilled incense ash. The ancestors enshrined above were unlikely to protect her.
Qin Ying wasn’t about to let her play dumb by acting crazy. She grabbed Zhang Yuqin by the collar and dragged her back out.
“Where did you trick the people from the Cultural Preservation Bureau into going?”
Zhang Yuqin clutched her head, cold sweat pouring down her face.
Instead of answering Qin Ying, she muttered, “The Mountain God really is coming for his bride.”
Qin Ying raised a hand, intending to slap some sense into her, when Zhang Yuqin’s eyes suddenly flew wide. She was staring at something… behind Qin Ying.
Qin Ying froze, then immediately released her and sprang aside.
But when she turned around, there was nothing there. Only the cold wind churned the icy mist outside the ancestral hall.
Zhang Yuqin, however, remained fixated on one spot. Her eyes bulged impossibly wide, and a clicking sound rattled in her throat.
“Go away! Go away!”
Scrabbling at the legs of the Altar Table, she hauled herself upright and hurled the incense burner, fruit offerings, and everything else on the table at the empty space before her.
Then she snatched up an electronic candle from nearby.
The electronic candle had been used in place of an eternal lamp for convenience, but its battery was dying, causing its red light to flicker.
Zhang Yuqin flung it with all her strength, as though a soul-snatching ghost stood in the empty air.
Qin Ying wisely kept her distance. From Zhang Yuqin’s reaction, the Tunnel Wraith must have appeared.
Qin Ying had previously come into contact with the one wrapped in a child’s hair, and it probably hadn’t become that vicious yet.
The one Zhang Yuqin had swallowed hadn’t been bound in hair. There was no telling what kind of complications that might cause.
Qin Ying slowly shifted to another angle.
She watched Zhang Yuqin while edging toward the ancestral hall’s entrance.
Suddenly, Zhang Yuqin froze in the middle of her frenzied assault.
Qin Ying thought she had been frightened to death, but a moment later, Zhang Yuqin slowly lowered her arms.
Her body, which had been tense all this time, relaxed as well.
She rose onto her tiptoes and swayed out of the ancestral hall step by step, still dressed in her red dragon-and-phoenix bridal jacket.
Judging by appearances alone, she looked exactly like someone possessed by a ghost.
A chill crept through Qin Ying. After steadying her nerves, she quietly followed.
Like a puppet, Zhang Yuqin walked step by step into the fog.
Qin Ying silently trailed behind her.
The mist was cold and carried the damp, fishy scent left behind by rain.
Every street in Qingzhai Village had been swallowed by the dense fog.
Not a single household had its lights on. The only illumination came from streetlamps hanging beneath metal shades along the main road.
Zhang Yuqin kept walking, heading straight out of the village.
When they reached the low stone shrine at the village entrance, Qin Ying hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to keep following or retreat.
In the end, she followed.
On the fog-shrouded mountain path, Zhang Yuqin’s bright red bridal jacket was painfully conspicuous.
Qin Ying was getting seriously creeped out. She reached behind her.
The Thunderbird tucked inside her hat let out a chick-like cheep. Bolstered by the sound, Qin Ying continued after Zhang Yuqin.
Despite her swaying gait, Zhang Yuqin moved across the mountain path as though it were level ground, and she was anything but slow.
Qin Ying stayed close behind.
Partway there, she pulled out her phone to check how long they had been walking and what time it was.
She had expected there to be no signal. What made her heart skip a beat was the way the time on her phone kept jumping around.
Qin Ying had protected the phone carefully. It hadn’t gotten wet or suffered any impacts, yet the date kept flickering between the present day and a century ago.
Qin Ying had expected to be led deep into some remote mountain wilderness. Instead, as they walked, the mountain path beneath her feet gradually turned into a concrete road.
Before long, two dim yellow lights and a blue sign emerged from the fog: Qingzhai Station.
They had actually arrived at a train station.
No matter the circumstances, light always brought a sense of security.
Qin Ying tugged on her backpack straps and hurried to catch up.
The little rural station was extremely bare-bones, with only a simple platform.
Perhaps the staff had been negligent, because the iron gate at the entrance had been left open.
Zhang Yuqin slipped inside with ease and began descending the steps.
Qin Ying followed close behind. The instant she crossed the iron gate, a loud hum filled her ears.
It was as though an ancient tape recorder had been switched on beside her head.
A sharp, dry hiss scratched at her eardrums.
Before Qin Ying could adjust to the discomfort, a man in a black cloth mandarin jacket appeared before her.
His hair was tied in a queue, and his old jacket was so filthy and stiff with grime that the fabric had matted together.
He ignored Zhang Yuqin ahead of her, but when he reached Qin Ying, their eyes met through the fog.
They both sucked in a sharp breath, then simultaneously looked away.
Qin Ying’s heart pounded like a drum. She couldn’t help swallowing.
The man lowered his head and scurried around her, his expression fearful yet deferential.
Just before he vanished into the thick fog, Qin Ying heard him murmur in an authentic but old-fashioned northern accent, “That young lady who’s studied overseas. What a grand sight.”
Qin Ying stopped dead in her tracks.
Studied overseas?
That kind of old-fashioned phrasing was something she only ever heard in period dramas these days.
Thinking back to the man’s jacket, Qin Ying had the fleeting impression that she had crossed through time.
At the bottom of the stairs stood a small two-story building, with a station sign in front of it.
The platform looming in and out of the dense fog looked perfectly ordinary. What wasn’t ordinary was the fact that three or five “people” were standing there waiting for a train in the middle of the night.
For now, she’d assume they were people, Qin Ying added silently.
They wore the same sort of jackets as the man who had just left. Some carried a wicker Box, while others were empty-handed.
All of them acted as if Zhang Yuqin, standing at the front of the platform, didn’t exist.
“Miss, would you like to buy a newspaper?”
The sudden voice made every hair on Qin Ying’s body stand on end.
Thunderbird flapped its wings twice, electricity crackling across its body.
Qin Ying’s heart rate shot past one-eighty. Her neck stiff, she slowly turned her head.
A sallow, emaciated child stood beside her.
He looked like a top-heavy bean sprout, his enormous head balanced on a spindly neck.
He was obviously malnourished. Clutching the brown cloth satchel slung across his body, he looked up at Qin Ying with an ingratiating smile. “Buy a newspaper, won’t you?”
Qin Ying’s heart nearly leaped out of her throat.
Why the hell would she buy a newspaper now?
She said nothing. Stiffly averting her gaze, she pretended not to see him.
The instant she looked away, another burst of static crackled beside her ear.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the newspaper boy vanish into thin air.
Perched on Qin Ying’s shoulder, Thunderbird tilted its head and chirped twice in confusion.
Qin Ying struggled to calm her erratic heartbeat and drew a deep breath.
Just then, a long train whistle echoed through the fog.
A steam locomotive billowing thick black smoke burst from the dense mist and came chugging toward them.
Moments later, it screeched to a halt beside the platform.